


The Second Coming Of Christ

by LokianaWinchester



Series: Jesus Christ Superstar [10]
Category: Jesus Christ Superstar - All Media Types
Genre: ( ͡º ͜ʖ ͡º), :), Conductor!Jesus, Finger kink, Inspired by Peter Johansson's incredibly long fingers, Jesus is a bottom, M/M, Pianist!Judas, Uhhhhhhhh, he is also hopelessly in love with Judas, i don't wanna tag all the sex in detail but about half of it is sex, i expect no more than like 5 hits maybe but I'm gonna post it So I have all my JCS fics in one place, musician au, sooooooo, the other half is plot lmao, this is filthy, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 03:37:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14440617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokianaWinchester/pseuds/LokianaWinchester
Summary: Musician Modern AU Jesus/Judas fanfiction that was supposed to be a PWP centered Judas' fingers, but took matters into its own hands and developed some plot before I could redirect it back to the porn. So enjoy the Porn/Plot/Porn sandwich with feelings at the end :)





	The Second Coming Of Christ

**Author's Note:**

  * For [myself because this is so self indulgent](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=myself+because+this+is+so+self+indulgent).



> Please excuse any remaining mistakes.

Judas‘ fingers have been a fascination to Jesus for as long as they have been acquainted. Judas uses his fingers a lot, as everybody does, but Jesus sometimes loses himself in watching Judas go about the simplest tasks, like stirring their dinner or braiding his hair, or just typing out an email.

Sometimes he sees those fingers and thinks how beautiful they are. A bit disproportionate, lanky, but all in all, beautiful long fingers, fitting for the beautiful man they are attached to. A work of art.

Then again, sometimes he sees those fingers and wants them inside him. Sometimes Jesus forgets that there was a time when he did not have the luxury of actually experiencing that.

-

When he first meets Judas, he is not sure if they will meet again. After all, Judas is a well-known pianist and even though the string ensemble, that Jesus conducts, is not unsuccessful, they are still well beneath the level, that Judas usually agrees to play with, however their collaboration eventually does all of them some good. It helps Judas to focus on the music, not his success, and it boosts the awareness of the public towards their small but passionate ensemble.

Jesus is fascinated by the way Judas’ fingers move along the keys with such ease. He has seen many great pianists, but this man overwhelms him. His fingers are long and elegant, so strong and flexible; Judas makes Jesus forget how much of an art it is to control one’s fingers just right to play Chopin; the gentle pieces, as well as the fast, almost turbulent ones where the movements of the fingers were barely discernible. He plays everything with ease and Jesus admires him. But those fingers must be good for more than playing the piano. At first Jesus is ashamed when he finds himself thinking of them while he jerks off, imagining how they must feel wrapped around his cock, inside him. But Judas’ fingers without doubt, are beautiful and there is no shame in what he will never find out, Jesus tells himself.

When their collaboration comes to an end with one last concert, Jesus realises that maybe there is more to his feelings for Judas than simply wanting to sleep with him. He starts missing him after the weekend is over. He starts seeing him out of the corner of his eyes in public places, starts hearing his voice. Jesus might have a crush.

Then, two weeks after the final concert he gets a letter with a free ticket to Judas’ next concert in town. It is still over a month until then, but Judas wants to see him again and Jesus lives off that knowledge for five weeks.

Judas is absolutely amazing as always. When the building quiets down after a last round of deafening applause, Jesus makes his way to the staff entrance, he does not wait long. The second Judas opens the door, he spots him.

“You came.” Judas states, almost unbelieving. As if Jesus would not have.

“Of course. You wanna go for drinks?” An enthusiastic nod from Judas later, they are leaving, in search of the nearest bar, catching each other up on their lives.

There is not that much to get caught up on, so after some time, they start talking about music. Apparently Judas had a short rebellious phase when he was 14 and no longer wanted to play the piano, like his parents wanted him to, so he started playing the guitar and started a band. It died down eventually, Judas explains, but Jesus is left with the desire to see Judas play the guitar. Sometime around when Jesus tells him about that concert where he forgot to bring his dress shirt and had to conduct the youth orchestra in a colourful, flower-patterned shirt, Judas’ hand materialises on his thigh. And when they finally decide to leave, Judas pays for both of them and places his hand firmly on the small of Jesus’ back.

Jesus has been half-hard for what feels like an eternity, he cannot wait any longer. He needs Judas now, he needs to taste him, feel him. He twists out from Judas’ grip on him, pushing him against the side of the building. He leans in close, feeling Judas’ hot breath against his lips, looking at him expectantly. When Judas surges forward, with slightly parted lips, meeting Jesus’ own, he feels like he blacks out for a second before responding eagerly. After what feels equally like a second and an hour, Judas pulls back.

The cab ride to Jesus’ place is awkward. Judas’ hand is back on Jesus’ thigh, he takes off his tie with the other; he seems calm. But he second they are through the door, Judas is on him again, they barely even make it to the bedroom, but Jesus is glad they do, because the floor, or even the couch are not quite made for sex. Their clothes are strewn across the room, Jesus is on his back, Judas above him. His hair is tucked into a messy bun, his eyes are dark, and Jesus has never wanted anybody more. Then Judas leans down and Jesus finds himself with two of those gorgeous fingers in his mouth, while Judas sucks and bites his neck; Jesus is painfully hard by now.

“Please” he moans, thrusting his hips into thin air, because of course Judas’ other hand has apparently better things to do than jerking him off. But at least Judas listens and retrieves his fingers from Jesus’ mouth before reaching for his trousers and retrieving a packet of lube. For a moment the words ‘the perfect man’ ghost around in Jesus’ mind but then he gets distracted by Judas coating his fingers in lube and spreading Jesus’ legs.

Jesus doesn’t know how Judas is so calm. He, himself is drunk, horny, incoherent, but Judas is calm and somehow it turns Jesus on even more.

He lets out a sob when he feels the first finger circling his entrance. He needs this like he needs water to live, air to breathe. He presses back onto the finger the same moment that Judas pushes in and finally Jesus is getting what he wants because all of a sudden, Judas is not so calm anymore himself, adding a second finger quickly. Jesus feels the burn but he has barely any time to register it because when Judas twists his fingers inside him, hitting _that_ spot, Jesus nearly blacks out. Judas starts finger-fucking Jesus at a faster and faster pace, adding a third finger to the mix somewhere along the way, then a fourth. He barely ever misses Jesus’ prostate and when his other hand finally wraps around Jesus’ dick, it takes mere seconds until he comes all over his stomach and Judas’ hand.

When he is somewhat coherent again, Jesus notices that Judas’ fingers are still inside him; his dick twitches at the thought.

“Go on,” he tries to sound commanding but fails miserably. He comes over as begging however, which does the job just as well, because Judas slowly thrusts his fingers all the way in, then pulls out again, while he spreads them, opening Jesus up more and more.

Jesus is panting, he is getting hard again from being fingered but he wants Judas’ cock and he wants it soon. He feels loose and ready for Judas, who seems to be reading his mind and pulling his fingers out, wiping them on the sheet, before reaching into his nightstand again to get a condom and put it on. Jesus watches the long fingers wrapping around Judas’ dick, as he strokes himself a few times before lining up with Jesus’ entrance. He barely feels it when Judas pushes in, it is no more than a noticeable stretch but Jesus feels full. He feels so full and so good and the only thing missing is the power, the sheer strength, Jesus knows Judas possesses.

“Fuck me.” He grits out between his teeth, while he holds back a groan.

“Please” He nearly chokes on air when he feels Judas’ dick twitch inside him.

And then Judas starts to really move and Jesus thinks to himself that he never felt this good. Or maybe he says it out loud. Judas is pounding into him, moaning throatily and Jesus really has a thing for music, after all he did not become a conductor for nothing, but these sounds Judas was making, might just be the most beautiful thing Jesus has ever heard.

So he starts thrusting his hips upwards, adding intensity, force; it is perfect. Clenching around Judas is the right decision, as is bringing one hand between them and starting to stroke himself, using the other hand to pull Judas down to him and kissing him, open-mouthed, neither of them really stop moaning and so the sounds of choked cries and gasps mash together under their lips.

Jesus feels his second orgasm racing closer, notices Judas’ thrusts getting erratic and the fingers in his hair tug sharply, which sends another wave of pleasure through Jesus. With a last high-pitched moan, he comes for the second time, Judas fucking him through it, hitting his prostate time after time until his hips stutter and Jesus feels him come.

They just lie there for a few minutes, catching their breath, kissing lazily and Jesus has rarely been happier.

-

Since then, almost a year has passed and after some initial awkwardness, Jesus asked Judas out on a date. It was perfect.

And so is the relationship that bloomed between them. Like any relationship it has its rough patches and its hiccups, but they usually get over them fast. They love each other. The first time they told each other was on their third date, about a month after the fateful concert night.

-

They are sitting across from each other, waiting for their food to arrive and Judas puts his hand over Jesus’ cupping it, sending warmth and reassurance through his heart. The moment is perfect. Judas is looking at him with admiration in his eyes, as if it was not him, who was the real treasure in this relationship.

“Dirty fags!”

And suddenly Jesus is panicking. He had had his fair share of homophobia directed at him, the wearing makeup and panted fingernails tend to speak for themselves, and he suspects that Judas has had his own encounters, but it does put an dampener on his mood and he is suddenly afraid, that Judas does not want to be exposed to assholes like that because of him. He looks up at Judas who has also pulled back and sees him standing up. For a second Jesus thinks, Judas is leaving and becomes frantic, but Judas is not leaving, quite the opposite. Jesus sees him close his eyes, take a deep breath, as if to mentally prepare himself, then straightening his back. He cuts an impressive figure, as he walks over to the neighbouring table, where two dudebros are having a beer each and leer at Jesus.

Jesus swallows. His heart is racing, the anxiety rising. But he spent too much time in the closet, to avert his eyes now. He will not back down. When Judas towers over them, they shift their attention to him. Judas places his palms firmly on the table, leaning down to speak to them. Jesus can tell that his voice is overly controlled, his words carefully chosen.

“I’m sure that comment was about some cigarette butts lying around here somewhere,” Judas squints his eyes, theatrically looking around. “because I would guess that you would like to finish drinking your beers before leaving this establishment, rather than being escorted outside now for insulting other guests quite rudely.” He cocks his head to the left, quirking an eyebrow in challenge at the guy who shouted at them in the first place.

The man sneers. For a second he looks at Judas, as if examining, if he is worth an answer, then he spits out his reply.

“You don’t get to talk to me like this, faggot. Yeah I was talking about you. You and your little fuckbuddy over there. Disgusting, you are.”

Jesus’ anxiety spikes as the guy throws a dirty look his way. When he shifts his gaze towards Judas, he sees the muscles in his jaw clench and unclench. He lifts the hands off the table, running one hand through his hair, keeping the other at his side in a white-knuckled fist.

“I’m gonna say this once. Please-“ he paused, closing his eyes as if in silent prayer, “please step outside with me for a second so that I don’t have to punch you right here and be thrown out as well.”

The dudebros start laughing at the same time. Jesus does not know if he would rather see Judas starting a fight or back down. Then they stand up and the guy who has not spoken until now raises his voice.

“You think you can take us on? I bet you punch like a girl, you’re a right pussy, what are you? Pretending to be a man so that your boy toy over there sucks y-“

He never gets to finish his sentence, because Judas’ fist connects with his nose and sends him stumbling backwards with a shocked expression and a bleeding nose.

The other guy reacts without hesitation and yanks Judas back by his hair while the latter is still facing the other way. Jesus winces and gets up. He cannot let this unfold before his eyes without taking action himself. But before he reaches them, the guy lands a nasty punch on Judas’ jaw, then kicks him in the shin. Judas gasps, trying not to fall, but he does and takes a knee to the nose.

Just as the dudebro is going in for another punch, Jesus is at Judas’ side, yanking him back, at the same time as two waiters hold back his aggressor.

The other guests are shocked, staring at them openly, but Jesus could not care less, as he falls onto his knees next to Judas, cradling his face between his palms.

Judas’ nose is bleeding as well, so Jesus grabs a napkin off the nearest table, gently cleaning away the worst of the blood.

“Are you ok?”, he asks. But he does not get an answer, because in that moment, the dudebros run out, one waiter chasing after them unsuccessfully.

The other comes over to them.

“I’m so sorry about what happened. Please know that we in no way support this behaviour. But I have to ask you to leave. It was you who threw the first punch after all.”

Jesus looks at Judas, who nods in response.

The waiter hesitates a moment before continuing.

“I was just about to bring you your food. If you’d like, you can have it to go.”

Jesus gets up and fetches his jacket and wallet to pay while Judas clutches the napkin to his nose and grabs his own jacket. He exits the restaurant quietly with hunched shoulders. Jesus’ heart breaks a little at the sight.

By the time Jesus joins him, his nose has stopped bleeding.

“I’m sorry, Jesus. I really didn’t want to. I wasn’t gonna start a fight in there. It’s just –” Jesus does not want Judas to apologise. After all it was not an unprovoked fight. He might not like violence but he knows exactly why Judas acted the way he did.

“It’s ok. I understand. They were being assholes. I don’t blame you.”

Judas is frantic when he speaks again. He looks and sounds as panicked as Jesus felt earlier.

“No you don’t understand. I didn’t do that – I didn’t punch that guy because he insulted me. I did because he called you my fuckbuddy, as if you mean nothing to me, or I’m just using you for sex. I love you, Jesus, and I don’t ever wanna hear anybody call you my boy toy or anything of the sort. I just – I understand if you wanna leave… leave me. I’m sorry things got out of hand –“

“Stop.” Jesus interrupts him. Judas is rambling and he cannot listen any longer. “Hey, hey, Judas look at me.”

He takes Judas’ hands, pressing them to his heart. Judas hesitantly looks up at him, real fear of what he just said, written across his face.

“I love you too. I’m not gonna leave you. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to. I mean, it would be better if they hadn’t beaten you up, but I get it. And I’m touched that you defend me like this.” He sees Judas averting his gaze.

“Hey, I’m not lying. Look at me, you mean so much to me, Judas.”

Judas leaned in, capturing Jesus’ lips in a kiss. Jesus can taste the faint tang of blood and suddenly remembers the situation they are in. He pulls back and looks at Judas’ hands, still placed in his own. The knuckles on his right hand are swollen, two of them busted, and they have blood splatters from the nosebleed all over them. Jesus brings them to his lips and places a gentle kiss on each hand.

“Are you ok?” he asks again.

Judas nods. And they are ok.

-

Since then, many things have changed. For one, Judas has started taking self-defence classes. Of course he is careful with his hands and he promised Jesus only to use his skills if absolutely necessary. But the classes are fun and it provides a way for Judas to let off some steam in a more useful way than mindlessly going to the fitness studio twice a week.

They have a flat that they moved in together after dating for six months. It is more fancy than anywhere Jesus has ever lived but the soundproofing has to be beyond good, because Judas’ practicing hours are strict and he never holds back. Jesus loves it. He loves listening to Judas play the piano from his small broom-closet-turned-office, loves waking up in their bed to the soft melody of whatever ‘Song Without Words’ Judas chooses to play. Jesus loves everything about Judas, but one thing he is especially sure he will never tire of, are Judas’ hands. No matter how much changes in their lives, the one fact remains unshakable: Jesus has a terrible weakness for Judas’ hands.

After the fight at the restaurant, they heal quickly, but Jesus makes it a habit to kiss Judas’ hands like a greeting, which has prompted their friends to make fun of them, but it is their own code of affection, a sign that means a lot.

Jesus reflects upon all this, lying in bed one Sunday morning. Nothing is planned for the day, they both have all day free, and for once Jesus woke up first. Usually that is Judas’ role in their morning routine. Jesus feels Judas pressed against his back, his right arm slung around his middle and he takes Judas’ hand, kisses it, every single knuckle. Judas slowly awakes, Jesus feels him shifting and turns around to face his boyfriend, a wide smile on his face. Judas kisses him as soon as they are face to face. Jesus tangles one hand in the ruffled morning hair, Judas sports. It is all over the place, but it makes Judas seem soft, gives him a different kind of beauty than usual. Jesus continues smiling into the kiss. He loves Judas so much he thinks he might burst. The initial excitement of their relationship never died down and kissing Judas feels familiar and new at the same time.

Judas frees his hand from Jesus’ grip and puts it on his hips, directing Jesus’ movements until Jesus is on top of him, their lips never separating, kiss deepening. Jesus woke up half-hard and he knows Judas is in the same condition, he feels it. Smirking into the kiss, Jesus grinds down onto Judas’ crotch and feels the responding moan echoing deep within himself. When their lips part, Jesus does not even give Judas the opportunity to hold him back, but throws the covers to the side, pulls down Judas’ underwear and without much ado, takes Judas in his mouth. Jesus feels him trying to hold back, but Judas fails and thrusts up into his mouth, hitting the back of his throat, almost making him gag, but not quite. Jesus has had enough practice by now. He loves having Judas all the way in himself one way or another, loves burying his nose in the blonde hair as the base of Judas’ dick, and so he shows him. He bobs his head, twists his tongue, moans around the cock in his mouth and Judas’ reaction is fabulous, because in fact, they usually take it slower.

Unbeknownst to Judas, however, Jesus has dreamed of this for a long time, waking up before Judas, crawling under the sheets and then mouthing at that glorious dick through the boxers, which are all, Judas wears to bed. After a few moments, if he was especially stealthy, maybe even minutes, Judas would stir awake and move, but Jesus would pin him down and pull down the underwear just freeing his dick, so he could properly take care of it. Jesus would give it a few strokes, before circling the tip with his tongue and then sucking it in his mouth, slowly proceeding to swallow Judas’ whole length. Too many times Jesus has imagined this exact scenario so now that his mouth is filled to the brim with Judas’ dick, he revels in it.

Briefly he pulls off, looking up at Judas.

“Don’t hold back. Please. I need to _feel_ you.” Judas looks at him incredulously.

“Really?”

“I want you to fuck me. My face.” Judas’ groan is answer enough for Jesus as he sinks back down, wrapping his lips around Judas. After a moment he feels Judas’ hesitation crumble and when Judas’ hand clenches in his hair, keeping him in place, while he thrusts into his mouth, hitting the back of Jesus’ throat again and again, Jesus feels himself grow painfully hard. Spit and precome are leaking out the corners of his mouth and his eyes begin watering after a while, but as he looks up, seeing Judas propped up on one elbow, the muscles in his abdomen working with each upwards thrust, Jesus finds it more than worth the slight bit of discomfort and proceeds shallowly breathing through his nose. He can no longer resist and starts grinding into the mattress. It is so good. The perfect combination of sensation, until Judas stops.

Jesus pulls off, swallowing and wiping his lips on his forearm. Judas is looking at him with a blissed out expression, his eyes wide and lips parted. Jesus swallows again, before stretching out to kiss Judas. His boyfriend is far too beautiful for Jesus to handle.

Then Judas is cupping his ass and Jesus lets out a moan because that is exactly where he needs those hands, those fingers. He reaches for the bottle of lube on the nightstand and passes it to Judas.

“Please hurry,” he begs. Judas chuckles and presses a soft kiss against his temple before popping off the lid of the bottle and squeezing a generous amount of lube onto his hand, spreading it on his fingers, before his hands are back on Jesus’ ass, parting his cheeks, one finger skimming over the tight ring of muscles.

Then Judas pulls back again and manoeuvres himself out from underneath of Jesus, shuffling around until he is behind Jesus, who has gotten to his hands and knees, and pushes one finger in without warning, which has Jesus squirming, because he needs more. Impatiently he pushes back, prompting Judas to evade him, pulling back leaving Jesus gasping, because he is just that desperate.

But then Judas is back and this time he is setting a steady rhythm, adding a second finger just before Jesus expects it. He is being stretched open by Judas’ fingers and there is barely anything he loves more. When Judas hits his prostate the first time, Jesus’ arms give out and he finds himself groaning into the pillow filthily.

Judas does not seem impressed, keeping his fingers steady, increasing the frequency of his thrusts ever so slightly, winding Jesus up more and more, until he was sobbing into the pillow, achingly hard, yearning for more, begging for release.

“Judas, please, please, I need you to fuck me, I – your fingers are – mhhh – so good, but, God, please!”

When Judas finally takes pity on him, Jesus is near incoherent, breaths coming more in choked sobs than actual breaths. It takes him merely a few moments to put on a condom and position himself behind Jesus at just the right angle, so when he pushes in, it is perfect and Jesus knows somewhere in the back of his arousal-clouded mind, that he will not last much longer.

But Judas does not seem to be in an especially patient state of mind, as he sets a fast pace, his own moans mixing with Jesus’ small noises of desperation. Jesus does not think that he could possibly feel more pleasure, but when Judas reaches around him and starts jerking him off roughly in rhythm with his thrusts, Jesus finds himself proven wrong. Judas’ fingers are talented in every situation; they are wickedly good on piano keys, they can draw and bake, and now they know what makes Jesus go wild with arousal, so they put this knowledge, engraved in muscle memory, to good use, until Jesus is bucking his hips and comes all over Judas’ hand and onto the sheet. Distantly, Jesus feels Judas leaning over him, pressing kisses to his shoulder blades while his thrusts become faster, rougher and he finally comes as well, buried deep within Jesus, one hand on Jesus’ hip, the other caressing his hair, mouth pressed to the base of Jesus’ neck.

Judas collapses on top of Jesus and for a minute they just lie there, panting, trying to catch their breath and Jesus can feel himself drifting off, back to sleep.

He must really have dozed off for a little while, because when he opens his eyes, Judas is lying next to him, drawing patterns on the skin of his shoulder and neck, smiling softly, and Jesus has been cleaned up a little.

“Hey,” Jesus says softly, prompting Judas’ smile to widen.

“Hey,” Judas answers and Jesus chuckles, because this is perfect and he has no reason to hold in his happiness. It’s Sunday morning, they have all the time in the world. Jesus has just been thoroughly fucked and he is lying in bed with the man he loves. It is perfect.

“What do you say we take a shower?” comes a suggestion from Judas and it sounds marvellous, because Jesus still feels a bit sticky and a lot sweaty, so he nods enthusiastically and leans over to give Judas a small peck on the lips, before he swings his legs over the side of the bed and sits up stretching.

A few minutes later, after they both washed the sweat and remains of come off themselves, Jesus overthinks everything. He is standing close to Judas, head tipped back  and Judas’ hands are on his head, fingers massaging in the shampoo, spreading it in his hair, then returning to his head and rubbing in circles, fingernails scraping lightly over his skin and Jesus barely keeps back a moan because is there even one thing Judas’ fingers are not good at?

Judas washes out the shampoo, eventually, putting conditioner in, and then washing his own hair, before rinsing Jesus’ hair out once again and subsequently exiting the shower to get their bath robes and towels for their hair.

Jesus feels taken care of, he is warm, his hair is wrapped up in a towel fixed to his head by Judas’ talented hands and he is sitting at the breakfast table, a big mug of coffee, that he made in front of him, while Judas comes over to the table with two plates of scrambled eggs, a slice of toast and an apple each, setting one of them down next to Jesus’ coffee, leaning in for a kiss, a familiar movement and the best start for breakfast, before he sits down on his own chair.

An hour later, they have discarded their towels, slightly damp hair, likely tangling, but they are huddled together on the sofa and neither of them is in the mood to get up and get a hairbrush. They ae watching a rom com on Netflix and Jesus feels himself drifting off, head against Judas’ chest, wrapped in Judas’ arms, inhaling Judas’ scent.

When the film has ended, Judas gently shakes Jesus awake, because he knows, if Jesus sleeps during the day, he will have a hard time falling asleep when he actually should. They put on some sweat pants and t-shirts before they return to the sofa with a guitar and some chips, where they spend their afternoon jokingly writing songs, that actually turn out to be pretty good. They have started doing this semi-regularly when Jesus finally got Judas to pick up a guitar again after longing to hear him play since he first found out about Judas’ rebellious phase, so not that it has become a regular activity, Jesus comes to appreciate this skill of Judas’ more and more. It was a sort of creative outlet for both of them, with the added bonus for Jesus, that he got to watch Judas’ fingers figuring out the guitar strings.

After ordering Chinese takeout for dinner, they retired for bed early and as he rested his head on Judas’ chest, listening to his breaths, while Judas played with his hair, Jesus caught himself thinking that this was the perfect day, the perfect life with the perfect boyfriend and he could not possibly wish for anything better.

**Author's Note:**

> Hang out with me on [tumblr](https://lokianawinchester.tumblr.com/) or look at my Jesus Christ Superstar posts on [my JCS side blog](https://this-broken-man.tumblr.com/). Feel free to send me prompts!!


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